


Fear No Weather

by dayinthelife



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayinthelife/pseuds/dayinthelife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“We’ll be okay, you know,” Louis says after a moment, not moving when Niall knocks their shoulders together gently. He keeps his eyes toward the skyline, smoke curling out from between his lips to join the late night haze hanging over the city. Niall shrugs, not sure what to say, not sure if he believes him, and reaches over to pluck the fag from Louis’ fingers.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, Zayn quits the band and Niall and Louis deal with it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear No Weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theroadverytravelled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadverytravelled/gifts).



> First of all I want to thank the moderators of the exchange for being so lovely and patient with me, you've been great.
> 
> I know I took on some delicate subject matter and I'm not sure I fully did the content justice in just 4k, but I really hope you like it!!
> 
> Also huge thank you to [Corien](http://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagebins/) and [Savanna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/outwardbound93/) for beta-ing, I appreciate it so much!
> 
> Title from Empire by _Of Monsters and Men_.

They’re sat in a conference room at their hotel in Manila when they receive the news. 

Zayn looks as uncomfortable as Niall feels, tugging at his hair from where he’s sat beside his lawyer, looking small and pale even over the shitty Skype reception. Niall feels like he’s going to be sick as he processes what’s just been said while their team rifles through paperwork, quietly discussing logistics and contracts now that it’s official: One Direction is now a four piece. 

Harry’s sitting beside Niall with his face hidden behind a mass of curls he hadn’t bothered to pull back despite the sticky heat, chewing his lip and texting someone, probably Jeff or Gem or his mum. His fingers are an agitated blur across his mobile screen and Niall wonders if he’s giving whoever’s on the other end a play by play of the meeting, even though they’ve been told they’re to be completely silent on the topic until there’s been an official statement made. Liam’s on his other side and looking as though he’s putting forth a valiant effort not to cry, with the way his eyes are shining as he picks at the snapback he’s had clutched between his hands for the past twenty minutes. Louis is sat at the other end of the table, his mouth a thin line, and Niall can see the anger and guilt warring in his expression before he’s pushing up from his seat and striding through the glass doors, making his way toward the elevator. 

The silence after his departure is deafening, broken by Zayn’s sigh crackling over the MacBook speakers. Niall keeps his eyes trained on the table in front of him as Zayn stumbles through his apologies and goodbyes; he doesn’t want to see him right now, even over a computer screen, is afraid of what he might say. He knows he should be more understanding, that Zayn’s been at the end of a fraying rope for a long time now, but at the moment all he can think about is how this is going to change everything and he isn’t sure he’s ready for that, not now, not like this.

Niall heads straight back to his suite after the meeting and doesn’t see the other boys for the rest of the afternoon. He kicks off his trainers and climbs back into bed without bothering to change out of his jeans, considers calling his dad before thinking better of it, doesn’t know what he would say to him anyway, how he could explain what he’s feeling right now. He’s angry, he knows. Whether he’s angry with Zayn for leaving or himself for being selfish or their team for letting Zayn spiral out of control in the first place is another question. It’s a combination of all three, probably, mingled together with fear of the unknown, what Zayn’s departure is going to mean for their futures. Whether or not Zayn still thinks of them as brothers. Niall sighs, burying his head beneath his pillow and ignoring his mobile as it vibrates twice on the duvet next to him; it’s probably Harry wondering if he’d like to get together in his room and light some candles to cleanse themselves of negative energy or some other bollocks he’s started dabbling in since moving to LA. After half an hour of tossing and turning Niall falls into a fitful sleep and doesn’t wake again until after the sun’s gone down.

He comes to slowly, overheated and damp with sweat, to find that someone is impatiently rapping at his door. Niall’s wondering how long it will take for the person to give up and leave when his mobile comes to life again at the edge of the bed, a selfie he’d taken with Louis at one of their Japan shows lighting up the display. Groaning to himself, he fumbles for the phone in the dim light of his room.

“Oi Neil, open up,” Louis’ voice is a bit disorienting to Niall’s sleep addled brain, echoing through his iPhone and outside his door.

“Just a mo’,” he mumbles, hitting the end button and tossing his mobile back onto the duvet. He sits at the edge of the bed and stretches, exhaling as he feels his spine crackle pleasantly with the movement. His stress has always manifested itself in a physical way and he’s been feeling sore, irritable, and anxious since Zayn unexpectedly left in the middle of the night almost a week ago. Louis’ knocking gets more and more insistent as he sits, so Niall runs a hand through his hair and stands, wondering what he could want at this hour after the day they’ve had.

“Coming!” Niall says a bit louder as he pads to the door, throwing it open to find Louis in the hallway, grinning and clutching a bag of takeaway in one hand and two beers in the other.

“Just what I like to hear,” Louis quips as he strolls past Niall and into the sitting area. He’s dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, must be freshly showered, as his hair’s damp and sticking to his forehead. 

“Yeah, know how rare it is for you to hear praise like that,” Niall laughs as he turns a lamp on before grabbing two plates from the kitchenette. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Louis is still smiling as he sets two Styrofoam boxes of food on the table, but Niall can see the dark circles beneath his eyes and wonders how much of a toll this is taking on him, especially since he out of all of them is closest with Zayn and knows first hand the kind of shit he got up to the last leg of tour.

“Haven’t seen you all day, wanted to make sure you were alright,” Louis says, smile going a bit softer, more perceptive. He’s always been able to read Niall a bit better than the others. “Texted you earlier but you never answered.”

“’M fine, was just tired,” he replies, sitting down next to Louis and handing him a plate. Whatever sort of Filipino takeaway he’s brought smells amazing and Niall loads his plate up, suddenly ravenous. He turns the television on and tucks into his food before Louis can press him further. Louis takes the hint, nods and grabs the remote from the sofa cushion, turning on Fast and Furious while they eat in companionable silence.

Three films, a plate of _pancit_ and two beers later find Niall dozing on the couch, _Tokyo Drift_ playing in the background. He yawns, about to tell Louis he thinks he’s going to call it a night, but notices he’s stepped out onto the balcony to smoke. 

Niall rubs a hand over his face and pads out to join him. The humidity outside is overwhelming after the hotel room’s air con, although the heat has blessedly dissipated. Whenever they travel to tropical climates Niall is always reminded how uncomfortable this kind of heat makes him feel; he’d prefer the dreary chill of an Irish spring over the upcoming monsoon season any day. A wave of homesickness washes over him suddenly and he wonders if Louis feels it too, if the pull of home makes him ache, especially right now when it feels like everything they’ve come to know as constant has turned to liquid in their hands, slipping between their fingers in a steady stream since Zayn left. If Louis, who’s always been the loudest and most brash, who’s never been one to bite his tongue, also wishes things would just stop for a moment. If Louis, who had been glued to Zayn’s side for months and hadn’t said a word earlier today in their meeting, feels as unsteady on his feet as Niall does. Niall steps closer to him and hopes his presence can give off some sort of comforting vibe somehow, like things would be a bit better if he knew Niall’s feeling that way too.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” Louis says after a moment, not moving when Niall knocks their shoulders together gently. He keeps his eyes toward the skyline, smoke curling out from between his lips to join the late night haze hanging over the city. Niall shrugs, not sure what to say, not sure if he believes him, and reaches over to pluck the fag from Louis’ fingers. He puts it to his own lips and feels the rush of nicotine almost at once. 

“Really, Nialler,” Louis says, looking at him this time. His expression isn’t optimistic, but he doesn’t look like he’s lying to spare Niall’s feelings. Determined might describe it, if Niall had to guess. His mouth’s set in that same thin line Niall saw earlier in the day as he contemplates the city lights again, and for a second Niall’s worried he might bolt, but Louis just takes back his fag and reaches down for Niall’s hand, gives it a squeeze before he drops it again. They stand slotted against each other as they finish Louis’s cigarette, and that pang of homesickness only returns after Louis bids him goodnight, when Niall’s alone in his room and shivering under his blankets in the chill of the air con.

\--

The days leading up to the Cape Town gig are a blur if Niall’s honest with himself; their team had taken care of the announcement over Facebook (a bit quick and dirty, in Niall’s opinion) and that was that. Shows continue without so much as a word about Zayn and Niall feels like it’s this oppressive cloud hanging over them all, seeing the fan signs and tweets and knowing that soon they’ll have to answer interview questions about everything. Part of him wishes they could just come out with it all, how it was a giant shock even though they should have seen it coming, how he feels like he’s had a fifth of his heart ripped out of his chest and his last text from Zayn has been sitting unopened for days because Niall's afraid he’ll say something he can’t take back, how shit it is that they hadn’t even had time to process it before continuing tour. But in the end One Direction as an entity is bigger than himself, and so he goes through the motions, counting down the days until their break. Being in America away from everything will hopefully help him clear his mind, and he’s been looking forward to caddying for Rory ever since he’d casually asked Niall a few months ago.

His lack of enthusiasm doesn’t go unnoticed; Harry asks him multiple times to work with him on some guitar bit for a song he’s writing for this new start up band in LA even though he’s gotten enough of a handle on chords to manage by himself, and every time Niall makes eye contact with Liam he gets this weird, almost manic reassuring smile on his face, like it’s taking everything he’s got to keep it there. The other boys are handling things in their own ways, but Niall can’t help the frustration that threatens to bubble over the surface whenever he notices them fussing over him; he knows they’re only trying to make him feel better but he’d like to have his time to sit and mope. The only one who isn’t behaving as though he’s made of glass is Louis, who’s taken to coming to Niall’s room the past few nights to eat and watch a film or drink and play a bit of Playstation. It’s nice, like he knows that Niall needs a distraction but doesn’t want to be coddled, and Niall’s thankful for it. 

It’s their last rehearsal before the Cape Town show and Niall’s just fucked up the opening verse of Where Do Broken Hearts Go for the third time when Niall loses his composure. He’s been having an off day; he got into an argument with Greg over the phone earlier this afternoon and rehearsal is the last place he wants to be right now. When he notices Liam giving him that look again, it’s like something snaps in his chest and all of the frustration he’s been trying so hard to hide is suddenly surging through his veins. 

“Christ’s sake, Liam, will you just leave me _alone_?” he says, the words biting as he stalks off the stage and back into the makeshift equipment room. He catches a glimpse of the look of genuine surprise and hurt on Liam’s face and normally he would feel a pang of guilt but he can’t see past his irritation right now, sick of being babied. He tosses his mic onto the table and grabs an abandoned water bottle (probably Josh’s), draining it before throwing it in the bin. His ears are ringing but he feels calmer now, away from the concerned looks of his bandmates, and he sinks down onto the ratty sofa sitting in the middle of the room. He puts his head in his hands, breathing deeply like he does when he’s had a panic attack. He’s just so tired. Minutes go by and just when his heart rate is returning to normal he hears a hesitant knock at the door.

“I’m not a child, Liam, you don’t have to come check in on me,” he begins, irritation beginning to rise up in his throat like bile as he gets up to open the door. But it’s Louis standing in front of him, wearing a frown instead of the usual smirk he gets on the rare occasion Niall loses his temper.

“Are you alright, mate? Haven’t seen you like that in ages,” he says, walking in and closing the door behind him. He’s quiet and Niall suddenly feels like a tit for throwing a strop like the child he claims not to be.

“I… Yeah, ‘m fine,” he says, chewing at the skin around his fingernails. Louis takes his hand and gently pulls it away from his mouth.

“Niall, really. This is shit. I know it is; Harry knows it; Liam knows it. It’s absolute shit but we’re all here for each other, yeah?” he says fiercely, like he’s defending them against some interviewer who’s just tried to pit the five of them against one another with some stupid solo career question. “I’m here for you,” he adds, softer, rubbing his thumb over Niall’s knuckles. Niall’s heart stutters and he nods, not sure if he should take his hand back. Louis sits on the sofa and pulls Niall down next to him, putting an arm around him.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” he asks hesitantly, resting his chin on top of Niall’s head and sort of forcing him into a cuddle. Niall shuts his eyes and leans against Louis, the material of his track jacket smooth and cool against his cheek.

“Dunno… It’s just like, odd innit? Always kind of believed what we said in interviews, that it wouldn’t quite be One Direction without all five of us. Does feel a bit like the beginning of the end, doesn’t it?”

Louis doesn’t reply right away and as Niall toys with a loose thread on the hem of his jacket he worries that maybe he’s misjudged things and he’s just made a fool of himself.

“Yeah, suppose it does… Had a good run though haven’t we?” Louis says into his hair, his breath tickling Niall’s scalp. “Better to burn out than to fade away and all that.” He squeezes Niall tighter for a moment before pulling away to look at him. “You’ve got loads lined up for afterward, Nialler, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just last month weren’t you saying how sick it was writing with James, how you really think you’ve got your own sound figured out? You’ll be fine, everything will suss itself out.”

“It’s not… It’ll be different, not having you lads with me. That’s fine but… Don’t want to lose you lot, is all,” Niall says, and it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. He feels suddenly ridiculous and looks away as heat rises to his cheeks. He expects Louis to laugh and take the piss because he’s being stupid, but he doesn’t. Instead he hugs Niall close to him again, wrapping his arms around him like he’s the only thing anchoring him there. 

“Not going anywhere, promise,” he says, pressing a kiss to Niall’s temple so feather light Niall’s not sure if he’s imagined it or not. They sit together on the tatty couch for ages in the quiet comfort of each other’s company until Harry knocks gingerly on the door and asks if they should just call rehearsal for the afternoon.

\--

They’re sat in Louis’ room Friday evening, halfheartedly playing FIFA, when Louis suggests they go out.

"Think you need it, to be honest. Been cooped up inside your head like you get, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Niall agrees, but only because he knows if he doesn’t he’ll just be badgered until he finally gives in, an approach Louis has perfected over the past 5 years. Louis grins, chucking his controller carelessly to the floor and pulling Niall to his feet, pushing him out of the room and toward his own to get ready.

It probably will be good for him, Niall reckons, to go out. He’s been isolating himself when he’s not been with the lads or Josh or Sandy, maybe a change of scenery will do him well. So he picks out a sharp black top and does his hair up in a small quiff, pulls on the camel colored boots Louis and Liam had made fun of him for ages for when he’d first bought them. When he’s satisfied with his reflection in the mirror he trots back to Louis’. Niall is caught off guard when Louis answers the door, they’ve been out together countless times before, to pull and party, and Niall’s never noticed his heart rate jump at the sight of a club-ready Louis. He’s got his fringe pushed away from his face with his hair stylishly disheveled in a way Niall has a hard time achieving and a simple Adidas t-shirt on but it hugs his body in a way Niall shouldn’t find appealing, and he should probably be concerned by the direction his thoughts have taken but it’s taking all he has not to stare. Louis smiles brightly, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Ready mate?”

Louis has arranged a car to take them to some exclusive club not far from the hotel. It’s sleek and minimalist on the outside, but the music is loud enough that Niall feels the bass vibrating in his chest when they’re led in to the VIP area. The lights are low and no one seems to pay them any extra attention when they get their drinks; Niall’s thankful he can let his guard down at least a little bit. Louis leads them to an alcove near the back where they can people watch for a bit, smiling at a group of brunettes who nod as they pass by. Niall wonders absently if he’s on the pull tonight. 

A few hours and many more drinks later finds them on the dance floor, Niall having caught the eye of a dark haired girl named Asra and Louis in the middle of the brunette group from earlier, laughing as they grind against each other. Niall keeps his hands Asra’s waist as they dance close, her breasts pressing into his chest as she puts her arms around his neck. She’s fit and funny, with a snub nose and throaty laugh, and Niall should be calling a car to take them back to the hotel with the things she’s been whispering into his ear, but then Louis’s catching his eye and it looks like he’s frowning. A few minutes later he’s sauntering over, leaving the group of brunettes dancing by themselves.

“Feeling pretty knackered mate,” Louis shouts over the music, his eyes a bit bloodshot and a sheen of sweat making his cheekbones shine. Niall smiles and apologizes to Asra as he steps away and stumbles into Louis’s space.

“Can’t hear you,” he says loudly into Louis’s ear, pressing a hand to the back of his neck; he’s a bit drunker than he thought. Louis laughs and takes his wrist to pull him over to the bar where it’s a bit quieter. He calls for his tab before turning back to Niall. 

“Said I was feeling a bit tired, think I’ll head back. You coming or…?” he nods over to where Asra has rejoined her friends. Niall laughs, thinks about how Asra’s curves felt beneath his palms while he looks at Louis’s throat, still damp with sweat, and considers. 

“Nah, ‘m ready.” 

Louis gives him a blinding grin.

\--

By the time they stumble out of the cab and back to Niall’s room it’s half three and the combination of alcohol and sleep deprivation has Niall feeling lightheaded and giggly. When he shuts the door Louis throws himself back onto Niall’s bed with a content sigh.

“I’m so comfortable, might fall asleep right now,” he declares to no one in particular, letting his arms fall haphazardly onto the duvet. Niall laughs, climbing up beside Louis and mirroring him, throwing one of his legs over Louis’ as he suppresses a yawn. 

“Good, don’t leave,” he sighs, tangling their fingers together, pleased when Louis squeezes his hand and turns to smile at him. He wonders when Louis’ touch had become something he sought after like this, thinks about how Louis had been like the sun to him on The X Factor; maybe it’s just always been inevitable.

“Wouldn’t ever leave you, Nialler,” Louis says after a beat, blue eyes bright and suddenly serious. He licks his lips and leans toward Niall slowly, giving him the opportunity for an out should he want to take it. When their lips touch it’s like a release, letting go of something Niall didn’t realize he was holding onto in the first place. He kisses back, sighing when Louis untangles their hands to run his fingers through Niall’s hair, his thumbs brushing at the place just behind his ears. 

“Was sort of hoping the night would end like this if I’m honest,” Louis whispers, breath hot as he presses another kiss to Niall’s lips. “Didn’t want to assume… Been wanting you for a while, though,” he admits, every few words punctuated by another kiss. Niall laughs into Louis’s mouth before deepening the kiss, tasting the amaretto sours Louis had been drinking earlier on his tongue. Louis groans and shifts his weight so he’s laying more or less on top of Niall, his arms on either side of his head. 

Niall feels like he could do this forever, exchanging breaths and kisses and soft quiet sounds with Louis, a world apart from the tumult they’ve been dealing with since the 19th of March. Then Louis’s fingers find their way beneath his shirt, hot and roaming, and suddenly it’s not enough. Niall grinds his hips upward, wrapping his arms around Louis’s neck and drawing him closer. Louis lets out a sharp breath through his nose, ducking his head to mouth at the underside of Niall’s jaw. 

They move in tandem, shedding their tops and clutching at one another like they won’t get this opportunity again, the press of skin against skin almost intoxicating. Niall lets out a small gasp when Louis dips his hand below his waistband, stroking him to hardness. Niall moans, clutching at Louis’s shoulder and Louis bends down, pulling Niall’s cock from his boxers, licking his lips and looking to Niall for permission. Niall nods his head helplessly, and Louis mouths at him, licking around the head for what seems like ages until he finally takes him into his mouth. 

The heat of it is almost too good, and Niall bucks against Louis’s mouth until Louis pins his hips to the bed with his hands, popping off to laugh and wipe some of the spit from his lips. He looks beautiful, Niall thinks, his eyes bright and fringe falling into his face, and Niall thumbs at his cheekbone when he goes back down.

It doesn’t take long before he’s tugging at Louis’s hair and coming down his throat with a moan. Louis cleans him up with his tongue, kissing the corner of his mouth when he joins Niall back up on the pillows. 

“Beautiful, Nialler,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Niall’s hair. “Feel good?”

Niall nods, suddenly feeling maudlin in his post orgasm haze. He grabs Louis’s other hand, like his touch will anchor him there, so he won’t leave and throw his life in a tilt like Zayn’s done to them. He feels guilty for even thinking it, but can’t help the resentment that’s been festering inside him since the 25th.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis whispers, like he knows exactly what’s going through Niall’s head. “Dunno why you’re so afraid of that. You’re one of my best mates… More than, if that wasn’t obvious. Zayn’s being a right twat right now, but he’ll come round. I promise he’ll come round. He thinks the sun shines out your arse, Niall, maybe even more than I do. We’re going to get through this, all of us.”

The next morning Niall is woken by sunlight streaming through the window he’d forgotten to close last night, with Louis’s arm wrapped protectively round his waist. The knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach is gone for the first time since that conference call in Manila, and when he picks up his mobile from the nightstand he notices a new text from Zayn. He types in his passcode and a quick response, his heart racing, and hits send before he can stop himself. He takes a deep breath and rolls over, pressing himself against Louis’s chest. He isn’t alone in this, isn’t the only one struggling, and they’ll get through it together. It’s enough for the time being.


End file.
